


hating you is nostalgic

by campe-silky (SilkyinaBottle)



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Art Galleries, Drawing, F/F, Lesbian Character, Love/Hate, Post-Canon, Ten Years Later, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 09:16:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14493750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilkyinaBottle/pseuds/campe-silky
Summary: While looking for inspiration in a nearby art gallery, a 22-year-old Nerris sketches a drawing of a beautiful stranger, only to find out she isn't a stranger at all.





	hating you is nostalgic

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes you just gotta take your favorite het ships.............. and make em gay

The sun casts a golden glow through the emerald leaves on the trees sprinkled around town as Nerris decides it’s best to hole herself up in the closest art gallery to her apartment. Her roommate took her car, and taking the bus simply wasn’t an option, so that meant she had to walk here.

As she steps inside, she smells mothballs and dust, but the rooms are well-lit and admission is free, so it’ll do. She fiddles with the strap of her messenger bag as she browses the sights, hoping to find somewhere where she can sit and get those creative juices flowing.

See, she didn’t come here to waste her time or buy some obscenely overpriced painting for her living room. No, she came here to find something. Something important.

She came looking for inspiration.

It only takes her a quick walk around the perimeter of the gallery to decide that there’s none of that here. It’s not that the art is  _ bad,  _ really (that kind of stuff’s subjective anyways), it’s just that it’s not the kind of art she’s looking for. It’s mostly modern or abstract pieces, not the detailed renaissance-era paintings she was envisioning.

Not good at all when she’s trying to design characters for her latest story. This won’t do at all.

...Or, at least, she  _ thinks  _ that, until something catches her eye as she’s heading towards the exit. Entrance? They’re the same, she thinks.

Either way, something makes her stop and stare. Or, rather,  _ someone. _ A girl standing in front of one of the paintings, studying it intently. She couldn’t be more than a year older than her, she thinks. She’s got pretty hazel eyes with long eyelashes and honey hair that spills over her shoulders in well-kept curls, and that’s all Nerris needs to reaffirm to herself (as she often does) that she is a huge lesbian.

Nerris saw the painting this girl was looking at earlier. She passed by it as she walked in. Honestly, she didn’t think much of it, but this girl is staring it down as if it’s the most fascinating piece in the world. It’s kind of mesmerizing, honestly. The girl, of course, not the painting. The painting is still as uninteresting to Nerris as it was before, but the girl is gorgeous.

...And it’s kind of weird, but she can’t help but feel like she’s seen this girl before. In a dream, maybe? But, wait, no, they say you can only see faces you’ve already seen before in your dreams. Then maybe she saw her in a magazine or something. Seems likely enough.

Nerris’ eyes slowly travel to a bench a few feet to the girl’s left. Maybe she could just…

She quickly and stealthily darts over to the bench and silently pulls her sketchpad out of her bag. She is so glad she decided to play a rogue in her last campaign. She swears it helps.

She opens the book up to the first blank page she can find—somewhere randomly in the middle, she’ll regret this later—before retrieving a pencil from her bag’s front pocket. She glances at the girl, and then back at her empty canvas. Alright. She’s feeling it now.

She starts to sketch, in vague shapes at first, but eventually the lines take form into a human figure. She’s sitting to the girl’s left, so she sketches her in profile, slowly adding in details as she goes: her curls, her well-kept nails, the cute vest she’s wearing… It doesn’t take long until she’s completely caught up in her drawing. She doesn’t even think about how long she’s been drawing, or how long the girl’s been standing there.

And then, the next time she looks up for reference, the girl isn’t there. She blinks in surprise. How long had she been staring at her sketchpad? She didn’t think it was that long. It’s almost like the other girl just suddenly disappeared…

“Ah, so you  _ were  _ drawing me.”

Nerris jumps, almost toppling off of the bench and letting out a truly embarrassing squeak. She hides her drawing against her chest as the girl—standing right over her shoulder—lets out an amused giggle. Of course. Just her luck. She can feel her face heating up in humiliation. Great. Just her luck. Now this super cute girl (even cuter up close, she’s noticing) thinks she’s some kind of gross voyeur.

But after a moment, the girl’s laughter fades, and she actually moves to take a seat next to Nerris. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you. That was me you were drawing, right?”

“I…,” Nerris has to take a moment to process the fact that a pretty girl (a pretty girl that she was  _ admiring _ ) is talking to her, before she can get any more words out, “I was drawing you, yeah.”

The girl smiles a little more, amusement still alight in her eyes. “Can I see it again?” She reaches out to ease Nerris’ grip on the sketchpad, which would normally irritate Nerris if that thought weren’t drowned out by  _ holy shit a pretty girl is touching me what the fuck _ —

“Ah! It’s really good!” she says, taking Nerris aback completely. A pretty girl  _ likes her shitty artwork.  _ “It looks just like me.” She looks back to Nerris, a little sheepish now. “I’ll be honest… I thought you were maybe drawing me. I wouldn’t have stayed in the same spot for so long otherwise.”

“Oh,” Nerris chokes out. In hindsight, that should seem completely obvious, but honestly, she hadn’t even considered it.

She smirks slightly, and Nerris thinks she might just die. “You didn’t disappoint, though.” She starts to pull a phone out of her vest pocket. It has a case on it that makes it look like a playing card: the queen of hearts. “Can I take a picture of it?”

“Oh, uh,” she sputters, “yeah. Yeah, feel… feel free!” She holds out the sketchpad in a way that will make it easier for her to take a picture.

The girl takes a couple of pictures. First she takes one from up close, getting sort of up in Nerris’ space so she can get all the details of the drawing in. Nerris can feel her head spin. She smells like rose perfume and… smoke? But not cigarette smoke. Like the kind that comes out of smoke machines in big, flashy productions.

For the next picture, the girl leans back a little, and then she pouts. “Hold it a little lower. I want to make sure I get your pretty face in the shot.”

Nerris’ heart skips a beat so hard she almost flinches. “Oh, uh, y-yeah! Sure!” She holds her sketchpad next to her and forces a smile. Is this girl seriously hitting on her? Or is she doing that thing straight girls do where they just compliment each other? Does Nerris look like a straight girl? She likes to think not. Or maybe she just looks like a gay girl and the other girl has a good enough gaydar to recognize the flirting potential.

Fuck. She’s so confused.

The girl lowers her phone and smiles, presumably at the pictures she’s taken. “Aww. You look so cute!” Okay, that’s too much. Nerris might just die, right here, right now. But she manages to pull herself together by the time the girl looks back up at her face. “Thanks, Nerris. I really love it.”

“Oh, uh, no problem—” Wait. She stops. “...How do you know my name?” She hadn’t signed her artwork, and it’s not like her bag has a nametag on it or anything (even if maybe it should).

The girl smirks a little, and somehow Nerris is struck with an awful sense of déjà vu. “Hmm, I wonder,” she says, and for the first time since they started talking, Nerris feels a little bit of irritation flare up within her. What’s stopping her from answering the question directly.

But before she can voice any of her anger, the girl moves her hand through the air in a sweeping gesture and… produces a red rose out of thin air. “For you,” she says, holding it out for Nerris to take. “In exchange for the drawing.”

Nerris lowers her sketchpad back to her lap and takes the flower in silent awe. The gears in her head are turning, quicker and quicker, heading towards an answer that she knows is within arm’s reach. The rose, her hazel eyes, the smell of smoke, her cute vest, all the goddamn  _ teasing… _

“Holy shit.” She looks back up at her with wide eyes, and it’s only now—now that she’s figured it out—that she realizes the girl looks sort of nervous. She should choose her words carefully, she realizes. “It’s… you’re fucking  _ magic kid. _ From Camp Campbell! I…,” she can’t believe she thought that little dickhead from her childhood was  _ cute,  _ “...I remember your name, I swear, I just don’t know if I should—”

She nods, confirming Nerris’ suspicions. “Uh, yeah, you… you shouldn’t. Thank you, though. I was afraid you would.” Nerris doesn’t think that’s something worth thanking her for, but she stays quiet. “I go by Rina now,” she says softly.

“Rina,” Nerris repeats. “Huh. Cool.” Things are suddenly way more awkward now that she knows. Yet she doesn’t feel nervous at all. Still, she needs to say something to break the silence. “You… look really good.” Goddammit, shit, she can’t believe she just said that to fucking  _ magic kid. _ It’s true, though.

And it seems Rina knows this, because she just laughs a laugh that sounds like bells and small animals and everything good in the world. She almost can’t believe she used to hate her as a child. Except she can, especially when Rina smirks and says, “Oh, really? I couldn’t tell.”

“God, hating you is nostalgic,” Nerris mutters, burying her face in her hands. That only makes Rina laugh more, and Nerris has to work hard to ignore the swirling, sinking feeling in her stomach.

“It really has been a while, hasn’t it? What have you been doing all of this time?” She can feel Rina shift a little closer, and her heart does this obnoxious  _ thing  _ that she doesn’t even want to bother describing (it skips a beat, that’s exactly what it does, she knows the phrase for it, it’s just so  _ embarrassing _ ). “Drawing? I mean, I remember the drawings you used to make for your campaigns, and they weren’t nearly this good.” Nerris lifts up her head to glare at her, and Rina smiles a little wider. “Because you were eleven,” she adds. “Or twelve, maybe? I don’t know, I never bothered asking.”

“Eleven,” Nerris answers. “I was eleven that summer. ...I think.” Her birthday’s in the middle of summer, so technically she was also twelve? Whatever.

Rina nods. “Eleven it is. And now you’re…?”

It shouldn’t be a hard question to answer. It’s just as simple as saying a number. But for some reason, sass is what comes out of her mouth instead. “What, is this your weird way of trying to pick me up? In the middle of an art gallery?” Maybe it’s just finally sinking in that Rina is  _ fucking magic kid from Camp Campbell.  _ Or maybe Nerris secretly wants that and she’s just dipping her toes in the water.

Wait, scratch that. It’s definitely not that one.

But much to her horror (flustered embarrassment), Rina giggles and winks. “Maybe! You could be my type, you don’t know!” She cranes her head up to stare at the ceiling. “But if you were eleven back then, then you should be just around my age anyways. ...Twenty-one? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty-two,” she confirms, a little begrudgingly.

“Twenty-two!” Rina repeats with a smile. “So we  _ are  _ the same age, then.”

“Well, yeah,” Nerris says, rolling her eyes. “If we were the same age back then, that shouldn’t have changed.” Even if absolutely everything else has. At least their difference in age (or lack of) is a fucking constant.

As if she’s only considering Nerris’ point, Rina hums. “I suppose you’re right.”

“You  _ suppose? _ ”

“Anyways, you never answered my question from before!” She leans over, getting up in Nerris’ space again, and she’s not at all sure if she should shove Rina away or pull her closer. Maybe she should just punch her. For old time’s sake. “What have you been doing all this time?”

“Um.” Nerris glances back down at her sketchbook, and out of the corner of her eye she can see Rina smile wider. Well, no point in lying at this point, right? “I’m an illustrator,” she admits. “For like… books and stuff. I’m trying to get into writing too, but that pays even worse, so…” She hasn’t been focusing on it.

Rina seems to understand that’s what she means, since she nods thoughtfully. Nerris glances at her again and tries to change the subject. “So… what about you? Are you still doing all your lame magic stuff?”

Unsurprisingly, Rina’s smile disappears, and in its place appears a pout. And yeah, Nerris was totally trying to wipe that dumb grin off of her face, but at the same time, she can’t help but feel a little disappointed. “Yes, I am still doing my ‘dumb magic,’” Rina replies, “because it’s not dumb and it’s actually completely genuine.”

Nerris rolls her eyes again, but privately, she knows it’s true. She’s always known that to be true. She was wildly jealous of her as a child, after all. It’s the biggest reason she was always picking fights. Well, that, and because Rina was just a major asshole as a kid.

“You’d be surprised at how much recognition I get,” she says, and Nerris can see stars in her eyes. “The people love me. I’m actually touring right now.”

“What?!” What the fuck, this is so  _ unfair.  _ “Wait, is that why you’re here right now? I mean… in town, not in some dumb art gallery.”

Rina pouts again. “I don’t think it’s dumb.”

“Agree to disagree.”

She huffs out a sigh and stares straight ahead at the painting in front of them again. “Yes, that is in fact why I am here. I have a couple of free days before I have to travel to the location of my next show, so I’ve been… wandering, I guess. Seeing the sights.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Nerris tells her. “There isn’t much to see around here.”

She was trying to discourage her, but even so, Rina smiles. “Well, I found you. I think that’s quite a sight.”

She is so glad it’s hard to see blush on her skin tone, because she is burning  _ up  _ right now. “Uh… right.” She’s trying so hard to ignore the way her voice is wavering. Maybe if she just pretends it isn’t then Rina won’t notice.

But it’s already much too late; Rina is definitely smirking at her. “Maybe we should leave.”

Nerris blinks. “We?” Since when are they a group?

“Well, you don’t seem to like the gallery much, so I just thought—”

“No, that’s not what I meant! Why the hell should I leave with you?” That’s maybe a  _ touch  _ ruder than she meant it, but Rina doesn’t seem too bothered, so it’s fine (and since when, she wonders, does she care about bothering Rina?).

Rina shrugs. “We can catch up. I’ll buy you lunch,” she offers, and the words themselves aren’t flirtatious, but there’s a look in her eyes that makes her intentions perfectly clear. She stands up, dusts off her skirt, and offers Nerris a hand.

...Which Nerris, of course, spends a good few seconds just staring dumbly at. “...Okay, what the fuck is your deal?”

Her smile grows a little wider. “Why, whatever do you mean?”

“Don’t play that game!” Nerris hisses, making sure to keep her voice down as she gets to her feet. Even if she’s not the biggest fan of the art here, getting kicked out would still be humiliating. “You keep on making passes at me and telling me about how cute I am… Are you seriously asking me out on a date right now, or is this just your way of making fun of me?”

The smug look on Rina’s face slowly fades away, and she drops her extended arm back down to her side. “I was being genuine…,” she says, her voice softer than Nerris has ever heard it (even when they were children). “I thought you knew that. I think you’re cute, Nerris. Honestly. And, well, it’s pretty obvious that you think the same of me, so why not ask you out? We have the time.”

Nerris stares down at her feet. “It’s different, though.” She turns her hands into tight fists, hoping it’ll help her will her blush away. “I know you. You were a total dick to me.”

“You  _ thought  _ I was a dick,” Rina says. “And you also thought I was a boy, so.”

There’s a pause in which Nerris considers this. She does have a solid point. Nerris never exactly had a perfect opinion of boys, anyways; or at least, she never saw them in a romantic light. And she certainly never thought the tides would turn on her like this, especially not with that obnoxious little magic prick from Camp Campbell.

“I’m not trying to convince you,” Rina clarifies. “You can still say no. I’m just reminding you, I’m a different person now. And I know you are, too. Trust me, I wouldn’t ask out the girl who tried to kill me with a foam sword if I thought she was going to do it again.”

Nerris purses her lips, looking from the floor to Rina’s (pretty, still very pretty) face. “...I guess you have a point.” After a moment, she sighs and picks herself up, tucking her sketchpad underneath one arm. “Alright, I’ll go with. But only because you don’t know the area and you’re going to need my help if you wanna find a decent place to eat.”

She smiles, “If that’s the best I’m going to get, I’ll take it,” and grabs Nerris’ hand. And if Nerris holds onto it the whole way out, maybe that’s okay, because that magic brat from Camp Campbell is long gone, and someone better is in her place.


End file.
